Evanstan Oneshots

chrysanthemum

tw: vague mentions of suicidal ideation & acting upon the urge + descriptions of surgery. this might get a part 2 if i feel like it !

slim, pale human thighs hook over a strong forearm, the same human body, the curve of a delicate spine, held carefully, chest-to-chest, with a vampire.

chris can feel the heartbeat of this tiny human fluttering against his freezing skin. his jaw aches, teeth clenched, and the human makes a soft sound against the cool column of his throat. he pats the boy's bare back, aiming for supportive, trying to be anything other than the scary bloodsucker that scooped a human up from the shadows, from the side of a river. where maybe he had jumped.

he clenches his teeth tighter.

"shhh, boy, shh." he breathes, "sebastian was it? stay quiet."

he doesn't know how to be comforting, the words to use, the tone in which to lilt his voice. the boy, sebastian, groans in the back of his throat. he's warm, but cooling rapidly. he's bleeding, split at the thigh, blood smearing between them. it's the most concerning of his abrasions. the most likely to kill chris's tiny human.

if chris licked the small cut by his temple, well, so be it. this human is his.

"it hurts." sebastian whines, "please, it hurts."

chris shushes him, kisses his hair, licks the blood off his lips and heads towards the sounds of people. towards the hubbub of traffic in the distance, the pulsing heartbeat of the city, of safety and help for his human.

"i know." chris says, "i know it hurts, but it won't for long. i'll get you to safety or i'll make you just like me. it won't hurt you for long."

the blood soaking his hip, his shirt and jeans, and smearing against is skin, is not arterial. the wound is deep and whatever impaled the boy has since been removed, so chris keeps the heel of his free hand pushed hard against the gouge. he doesn't know a lot about humans, doesn't remember, but knows enough to figure out the more blood kept inside the body, the better the chances of survival.

truth be told, he's not entirely fussed about getting his human to the hospital. it's the preferred option, but regardless of preference he won't let the boy die. if it comes down to life or death, chris will bite him. keep sebastian as his to protect.

"hang on, little one." he coos, "we're getting closer, you're doing well. stay awake for me."

sebastian nods, sluggish, and tips his fevered cheeks into the forgiving coolness of his protector's neck. he takes measured breaths, small sips of air, trying not to close his eyes for too long. he's supposed to stay awake.

"what's your name?" he asks. maybe if he's distracted, entertained by something other than his own pain, he won't pass out.

"chris." says the man carrying him like he's nothing. he hums, headache spiking sharply, dumbing him down to monosyllables for a moment.

"how'd you find me?" he asks, and thinks, no one was supposed to find me.

he's glad, now, that he's being saved. the second he'd hit the freezing rapids sebastian had regret jumping. he wanted nothing, wanted some peace and quiet, but now he just wants to live.

"i followed the blood." chris says, in the same smooth, low, soothing tone he's had from the start. sebastian didn't realise he was bleeding that much. he's too weak, too nauseated to bother looking down to check.

he manages a soft mhm in acknowledgement, mouth cotton-y and dry. he's amazed that chris has managed to hold him for so long, to walk him through thick forest, seemingly effortlessly.

"if you fall asleep," chris says, and sebastian follows his voice with a weak sound, "i will be very unimpressed. i haven't been walking you all this way only for you to die."

sebastian mulls over this, and lifts his arm, which no longer feels like part of his body, to wrap around chris's neck, touching soft, freezing skin with his own equally cold fingertips.

"comforting." chris says, mostly to himself, seeing as his human is blueing in the lips and rapidly losing consciousness. it doesn't stress him too much, there's always a way around death, but the idea isn't pleasant. it would be nice to keep his little pet soft and sweet and pink in the cheeks.

by the time they reach the city sebastian's pulse is slowing. his breaths are warm but weak and shallow against chris's throat, and they're both covered in enough blood to make pedestrians walking by them think twice about getting too close.

chris remains impassive. he doesn't have to explain himself to anyone, not that any of the people recoiling from the scene he and sebastian make have half the wits to ask. he doesn't say a word until he reaches the hospital, taking sebastian inside the entrance of the emergency bay, ignoring the bloodied prints they leave trailing behind them.

"he's bleeding out from the thigh. he hasn't been conscious for about ten minutes, and he's been bleeding for just over forty five." chris says, unsure what information is pertinent to keeping his little human alive.

nurse staff buzz around them and transfer sebastian from chris's arms into a gurney. chris soon after finds himself patiently following a very stressed medical team into an operating theatre. he doesn't ask permission to enter, but no one stops him.

surgery happens to be more interesting than he was anticipating. it's certainly not something he'd bother participating in, but the frantic energy in the room evened out by the complete, skilled focus and consequent calm of the surgeon is a fascinating dichotomy. the eye of this surgical storm is a woman, a point of gravity keeping the team from losing their calm. everyone is relying on her to call the shots.

he thinks he admires this woman, a bit. that could be biased, considering she's the only one in the room who doesn't frown at him when he walks over and pushes the hair tenderly off sebastian's forehead. he's not in anyone's way, and he can't transfer bacteria. he doesn't know - but frankly doesn't care - why he's being frowned at.

"what happened?" the surgeon asks, fingertips crooking inside the meat of sebastian's thigh, expression searching. "did a feeding go wrong? this doesn't look like a bite."

chris dismisses the blatant assumption that he caused this.

"he jumped off a bridge. i've never met him before." he says, "probably impaled himself on a rock or a loose beam, hard to tell."

the surgical resident hums from beside him, sounding sceptical. chris spares him a glance.

"so you carried him here?" the surgeon intones, accepting the story at face value, and now chris is sensing a lot of unease within the room. he suspects he's the catalyst.

"yes. he was dying, isn't that what i'm supposed to do?" he suggests blankly, "or would you rather i'd killed him?"

the nurse beside him takes a tiny step away. he doesn't feel like he's radiating any kind of violent intent, and he doesn't know why everyone thinks he's a demon. he's never killed a human in his life.

"no," the surgeon says, threading a suture through the bloodied skin gaping open in the curve of sebastian's thigh. her hands are steady, though her voice isn't quite. "we're only making sure he's safe to go home with you. he'll be on suicide watch, and he'll need help with day to day tasks."

chris doesn't think twice about accepting. who else is going to take care of his little human? - if there is already someone who's a part of sebastian's life they aren't doing a good enough job. if they were, he wouldn't have jumped.

chris clenches his teeth. he doesn't get frustrated much, but when he does it's with humans. they're stupid, dull little creatures – except for sebastian, who is perfect.

"he's mine." he intones, "he's coming with me."